


Hunger

by Sarosia



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: M/M, Violence, light cannibalism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-24
Updated: 2016-07-24
Packaged: 2018-07-26 08:48:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 18,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7567777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sarosia/pseuds/Sarosia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With every death, the hole gets bigger. With every death, Daryl Dixon hungers for something more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Oak

_AlN: Any and all mistakes are mine on purpose or accident. Also, this is the porniest chapter. After this, things get a little...dark._

****

There was only a small sound when he hit the tree. The sun hadn't gone down all that long ago and Daryl Dixon was on patrol in the woods around the church. There were only a couple of walkers wandering in the dark and he took them down without breaking even the tiniest sweat. It was so nice – so _quiet –_ that his body was finally starting to gear down from the Terminus escape when someone not dead rammed his side and threw him into a wide oak. A hand on the back of his head bounced his face off the wood and Daryl was too stunned to do anything as that someone spun him around and pinned him to the tree with their body, one forearm crossing the front of his throat.

 

Daryl got his hunting knife free, but a strong hand wrapped around his wrist, keeping him from doing anything with it. There was a beat of hot breath on his face and then the arm was pressing forward, making a dent in his air. Daryl grabbed at it with his left hand and the arm slid away, pinning that hand to the tree beside his head. Then the voice came and he recognized it straight away even though the name eluded him. The asshole from Terminus.

 

"Drop the knife and you won't have to find out how hard it is to load a crossbow with a broken wrist." His voice was calm despite the small struggle.

 

Daryl went to say 'Fuck you' and barely got a second in before the man – Gareth, he suddenly remembered – did something with his hand that sent sharp shocks of pain up his arm. The knife slid away, making a soft thump in the leaves at their feet. The pain stopped, but Gareth's hand was still tight on his wrist.

 

"If you're gonna kill me, do it. Don't fuckin' play around."

 

"I'm not going to kill you. I'm not going to say that I won't at some point, but in this second, no." Still so calm, but there was something else there. Something strangely contemplative. It threw Daryl off.

 

"Then back off me." Daryl pushed at Gareth and moved him a little before the man braced himself harder against Daryl.

 

“No.”

 

"You were gonna kill us back in Terminus."

 

Gareth's head tipped to one side and Daryl could see his face better in the low light. His eyes were distant, staring past Daryl's head into the tree behind him. The hair on his face seemed a tad thicker and his lower lip looked almost swollen. It shined as if he'd just licked it and maybe he had.

 

Gareth nodded and there was a distinct note of annoyance in his voice. "Yes, we were going to kill you. It's not like we wanted to. We're not monsters. If you remember, your man Rick offered us violence first. It didn't have to go down like that."

 

Gareth's eyes ran over Daryl's face to linger on his mouth. He stared at it hard like he'd never seen one before. “Everyone I worked so hard to protect is gone. You have no idea the kind of things I've done."

 

Gareth moved his eyes back up to Daryl's. "I don't like killing people, but there is someone I wouldn't mind seeing dead. Who was it? Who blew up the tanks and destroyed my family?"

 

Daryl locked his jaw and his eyes narrowed down to shadowed lines. Gareth surprised him again. He smiled and it was the smile of a man just before he broke. "You know what? I don't even care! There's nothing inside and I...I just don't care!”

 

Daryl pushed against him and at the same time, Gareth leaned closer. He froze as a tongue licked over his bottom lip. Then Gareth was kissing him. The ice filling Daryl's muscles melted and he twisted his body between Gareth's and the tree, fighting him. Gareth forced his tongue inside Daryl's mouth and pulled back right before his teeth could come down.

 

The smile was still on his face. Gareth rolled his head to the right, eyes running over Daryl's face. "You _are_ a fighter. How do you keep doing it?"

 

"Get off me," Daryl growled. There was a note of panic there that he hated even as it came out. He shoved his body at Gareth's and made the man move an inch, but then he was back against the tree. Gareth's knee popped between his legs, rubbing at him. Daryl's throat tightened as he felt the first stirrings in his cock.

 

Gareth felt the change and pressed himself to Daryl's hip. His voice was still calm, but there seemed to be more air in it. "Your people destroyed everything. I'm so hungry and tired and alone and I bet you are, too."

 

"You don't know nothin'," Daryl spat. "Get away from me."

 

"I don't care. Idon'tcareIdon'tcareIdon'tcare." Gareth's knee moved between Daryl's legs and a small sound came out of Daryl's throat. "I am just so empty without them."

 

Gareth took Daryl's silence as a go-ahead and kissed him again. Daryl didn't do anything. To join in or stop this. Gareth's lips moved against his, worked his mouth open. His tongue dipped inside - tasted - Daryl's mouth. He released Daryl's wrist to grab his hip. Holding him, Gareth thrust against him.

 

Daryl's breathing was loud when the kiss broke. Gareth's lips looked even more swollen than they had before and the thought crossed his mind that they must hurt. Eyes half closed, Gareth let out a breathy moan that sent a jolt through Daryl's body. "I don't care. This isn't revenge. This isn't anything but what I need.”

 

“Is anyone going to come looking for you if you're a little late getting back?" Gareth's eyes opened all the way, zeroing in on Daryl.

 

The question was so outside the realm of anything Daryl expected that he found himself shaking his head in answer. Daryl felt Gareth's body move against him as he chuckled. Gareth slid his hand around from Daryl's hip between his legs. A long moan was Daryl's only response to the touch through his pants. Gareth kissed him again.

 

"Fuck," Daryl moaned. It had been so long since he'd even let himself think about anything like this. Before the end of the world, long.

 

Gareth squeezed and massaged him through the jeans. He put his mouth right beside Daryl's ear. "Please...I need this so bad...need you...I need to feel and forget and..."

 

Daryl swallowed. He knew that he should have been thinking about the people back in the church - his  _family_ \- but it was getting so hard to think of anything other than the hard body pressed against him. What he really needed to do was finish his rounds and get back to them. They needed him more than he needed to do this. 

 

Another darker, more selfish part of himself spoke up. Every one of them could easily take care of themselves if anything happened while he was out here. Why in the hell couldn't he let himself have just this one little thing? Daryl answered with the fact that Gareth had been planning on killing them and doing God only knew what with their bodies. And so the argument went on until Gareth slid down, tugging open Daryl's belt and jeans.

 

Daryl watched him do it, but in the back of his mind, he still saw that room they'd run into during the escape. Ribcages hanging on hooks. Like  _meat_ . Why would they do that? What kind of sick – 

 

His cock came out so hard and then there was Gareth's tongue – his mouth. Daryl touched Gareth's head, careful to keep it light as if holding him too tight might make the dream shatter. He'd wake curled up and alone on one of the pews in the church and –

 

Gareth didn't stop, only forcing Daryl's cock further into his mouth. Daryl's head rolled back against the tree and a shiver went through him as Gareth moaned, the vibration spreading all through his cock. He looked down when Gareth slid back, pressing kisses down the underside of Daryl's cock to his balls.

 

"Oh, fuck..." Gareth had opened his pants when Daryl wasn't looking and his hand was currently shoved deep inside them. He kept on pressing wet, sloppy kisses to Daryl's balls while his fingers worked inside of him. Gareth's eyes closed. "Want...I need..."

 

Daryl nodded. "Yeah."

 

Gareth grabbed Daryl's hips and used them to pull himself up. He pressed his lips to Daryl's again. Gareth rubbed his cock on Daryl's and let out a breathy moan. "Want you...please..."

 

He pulled Daryl away from the tree and Daryl realized that if he was going to do something to fight back against Gareth, the time would be now. He didn't. Something else inside him had taken over and all Daryl could do was watch as Gareth leaned forward against the tree. The man shoved his pants down and rocked a little on his feet.

 

Gareth let out another moan that went straight to his cock. That something had Daryl lick his hand and hock a blob of spit into his palm. He ran it over his cock and then pushed a finger into Gareth. Gareth pressed his face to the tree.

 

"Mmm, don't...don't worry about that...just, hurt me...come on. Please, Archer..." Gareth stopped moving. "Hey, what was your name?"

 

Daryl stepped up behind him, nerves twisting his stomach into tight knots like they always did with this. "Daryl."

 

Gareth looked over his shoulder, that beautiful lip between his teeth. It slid between them and he said, "Fuck me, Daryl. Make me feel you."

 

One hand on Gareth's hip and the other on his cock, Daryl worked on doing just that. After only a short while, Gareth was rolling his face against the tree in a way that had to hurt – had to be scraping the skin off him – but he didn't seem to notice if it did. Other than Gareth, Daryl found that he couldn't hear any other sounds. No footsteps on dead leaves or undead groaning in the night. Things he'd become very used to hearing.

 

Still fucking Gareth into the tree, he gave the surrounding area a quick look. Nothing and then he caught it: movement. It was a good ways off, but just the sight of one of those things stumbling through the trees made his balls tighten and not in a particularly good way. He slowed and Gareth glanced at him. The man leaned a little around the tree to see what was taking Daryl's attention away from him.

 

"Fuck," he moaned and Daryl felt the muscles in Gareth's ass tighten around him. He rocked harder against Daryl, fucking himself harder on Daryl's cock. "Goddamn...monsters..."

 

Keeping his eyes on the one in the distance, Daryl gripped Gareth's hips and really laid into him. Gareth hugged the tree and his head dropped to hang limp on his neck. He moaned through the harsher pace. The thing that had been a person shambled slowly in their direction and Daryl realized one very big thing: he didn't care.

 

If it did reach them – if it tore them to bits – what was that? Death? Death meant nothing in this new world except no more running, only walking. No more fighting, only biting. And the most important thing: the dead don't have to worry about their kind trying to kill them.

 

So why'd he spend all this time running from death? Always fighting against its gnashing teeth as if this world was any better than theirs? As if there was any difference between the worlds anymore?

 

At some point, Gareth had started stroking his own cock and when he came, he pulled Daryl along, too. Daryl grunted and groaned as he spilled, sounding like one of  _them_ and not caring one bit about it. He would be dead soon enough, so it was just one less difference between him and them.

 

The silence that fell after was a thick one, broken only by the soft groan of the walker coming for them. Once upon another time, it had been a woman – went shopping, made dinners – but now she was nothing. Her blonde hair had become only ashy wisps in the time since her departure and the floral dress that hung to her knees was torn and muddy. It made Daryl sad to see her like this, to know that this was what awaited them all in the end.

 

Daryl reluctantly pulled away from Gareth and grabbed his jeans. Gareth hung heavy on the tree for another second before hitching his pants up with one hand. With the other, he reached beneath the neck of his jacket to pull a knife the length of his forearm from where it had been hidden down his back. He used it to split her forehead in two before Daryl could retrieve his knife. Still holding the blade, he buttoned and zipped his pants.

 

Leaning against the tree, Gareth watched Daryl adjust his clothes. "If I had anything left to bet, I'd say that the people you're with won't let me join your merry men even if I begged on my hands and knees."

 

Keeping his eyes on the ground, but Gareth in his periphery, Daryl said, "Rick would kill you the second he saw you. You said you're alone...no one else from Terminus made it out?"

 

Gareth shook his head. "I stayed around Terminus for a bit, killing things and watching the fires go out. I couldn't find anyone else. What we did there, it wasn't because we liked hurting people. Everything I ever did in Terminus was for the safety of the people I care about. All of them are gone, now. Any of those people you're with...are they your family? Blood family, I mean."

 

Daryl glanced at him. He was finding it harder and harder to look at the man. "I had a brother in the beginning, but..."

 

"Man or monster?" Gareth smiled and it was a bitter thing.

 

For just one second, Daryl was back at the granary, Merle stumbling toward him blind of everything but the hunger consuming him. He blinked and it was gone. He dragged his eyes up to Gareth and there was something there that made Gareth's body tense as if readying to get out of reach. "An asshole shot him in the chest so that he'd turn. I put him down. The rest aren't blood, but they're family to me. I can't help you. Why did you have body parts hanging – "

 

Daryl felt the explosion before he heard it. Dread washed through his stomach as he looked in the direction of the church. It wasn't really that far off and he could see the fire through the trees. Daryl scooped up his bow and took off.

 

The fire on the broken church was so bright. Walkers had taken over the clearing and Daryl whacked the closest with his crossbow. He ran toward the church and the screams he could hear coming from inside. The front door opened and Carol was the first one out. A scream drew his attention to a person under several burning walkers, but he couldn't see who it was. Daryl made it several steps toward them before a hand grabbed his arm.

 

The smooth voice said, "It's not nearly as big as the fire at Terminus, but I guess it'll do."

 

Everything went black.

 

 

 

 


	2. Fireside

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything below the knee had disappeared, replaced by a poorly wrapped bandage that was dripping a trail over the ground. He didn't move when they dropped him.

The taste in Daryl's mouth was that of smoke and ash and Gareth. Had he ever seen the man with a cigarette? No...nonono...this was the wrong kind of smoke. This wasn't a nicotine heaven, but the taste of wood and cloth and flesh _burning._ He remembered the taste well –

 

That thought died with the abruptness of a door slamming shut.

 

Warmth. There was heat somewhere in front of where he lay on his side. It felt good – real good. He could see the fire in the wood-burning stove back home at Merle's place.

 

Someone was cooking – he could smell bacon or ham – and the delicious scent filled the whole house. It forced his stomach beyond growling and into the territory of a roar. Like the scent filling the house, the dream filled Daryl's mind until it was the only thing he could see. It was a good dream. A normal dream.

 

_Daryl was lying on the beat-down couch in Merle's living room. He remembered helping Merle bring the old sonofabitch home last year. It had looked like shit then and now...they only kept it around because it was a step up from the ratty carpet covering the floor._

 

_Daryl was on his back, one arm lying across his stomach and the other bent up behind his head. Everything was going surprisingly well today. No work while the freak of a storm was beating up the outdoors, the house was empty, and the fridge was full of Merle's favorite food: the cheapest beer from the Kum 'n' Go on the corner. All good._

 

_Daryl took a deep breath and released it with a contented moan. His eyes only opened when the smooth voice spoke up above him. The first thing he saw were the breasts on the poster tacked to the wall – Merle's decorating was world-class – before he tilted his head up to look at the man standing there._

 

_'Are you sleeping? Swear to God, every time I leave the room, you're out.' Gareth said. He crossed his arms over his chest and Daryl distantly noted the ash and tears on the man's motorcycle jacket._

 

_Daryl smiled, reaching his arms over his head to grab Gareth's hips. Each hand squeezed. 'It's a good day for sleep. If you hate it so much, why do you keep leaving me alone?'_

 

_'You know exactly why I keep leaving: to cook for you. You're so damn hungry, I can hear your stomach in the other room.' Gareth pulled out of Daryl's hands and stepped around to the side of the couch. He climbed on, straddling Daryl's waist. 'It's a good day for sleep, is it a good day for this, too?'_

 

_Daryl laughed and grabbed Gareth's ass. 'Every day's a good day for this.'_

 

_The front door flew open and a cold wind whipped through the room. 'Is it, Daryl? Is it a good day for that?'_

 

_Daryl looked up to where Merle stood in the door. He crossed his arms over his chest, the stump of his right hand drawing Daryl's eye automatically._

 

Not right. The door that had slammed shut in his head rattled. Something was trying to get in.

 

_'What are you doing here, Merle? Thought you were out of town.' Merle's presence was both a comfort and a scare. He dropped his hands away from Gareth as if that would make what Merle saw any better._

 

_'You know damn well where I am. You put me there.' Merle stepped into the living room. 'After the Governor put that bullet in my chest.'_

 

Not right. The wood around the deadbolt began to warp and then break as whatever it was threw itself against the door.

 

_'Now, stop fuckin' around here and WAKE UP before you're dead, too. I'm gettin' tired of comin' back to save your ass. You'd think death would let me rest a little, Jesus...' Between one blink and the next, Merle was no longer alive. He was the corpse Daryl had left at the granary, forehead caved in by the number of times Daryl had thrust the knife home._

 

The door broke, letting the outside world back in.

 

Daryl jerked, an uncontrollable spasm running through his muscles. He could feel Merle's name in his throat, but for some reason, it didn't make it all the way to his ears. His lips were so dry and when he tried to lick them, he was stopped by a strip of dirty cloth running straight through the center of his mouth.

 

Daryl's brain stopped and started again. His eyes were still shut. He was lying on concrete, arms hitched painfully behind his back. Panic flooded his system and he started to struggle on the ground. Somewhere above him, he heard a hushing sound and then there was a hand touching his face.

 

Only when his eyes opened did his head really begin to hurt. For a whole minute, his vision was all streaks and blurs that he couldn't make heads or tails out of. He tugged on his arms and closed his eyes in the hope that would help his vision clear faster. A million things weren't right and for the life of him, he couldn't figure any of it out. Every thought in his head fractured and each splinter stuck out of another random one.

 

Daryl twisted his shoulders, moaning when his head throbbed harder at that little movement. Fingers slid up to stroke his temples. That helped some and this time when he opened his eyes, he saw the fire in front of him. It stabbed needles straight through his eyes into his brain. He slid them away as the fingers slid up into his hair and gently massaged his scalp. Everything went blurry again for a second and there was Rick. He was sitting on the ground with his back against a wooden pole. Rick's arms were pulled back and from the way he was sitting, Daryl thought maybe his feet were tied together, too.

 

He was the farthest away. There were five others tied to five other poles in a curving arc halfway around the fire. Rick was staring at him, pulling at his bonds, but getting nowhere. Daryl looked at every face, forcing himself to see them – to understand why they were all like this and why so many were missing.

 

Beside Rick was Maggie and then Tara, Bob, Rosita, and Eugene. No one else. Their clothes were covered in ash and soot and Daryl could see cuts and burns on everyone. It didn't –

 

Gareth and the oak. Running through the trees. Flames erupting from the church. The body on fire. Screaming. So much screaming...

 

Daryl jerked and tried to sit up. Hands grabbed him, kept him down. "Calm down, everything's okay. Don't hurt yourself."

 

He tried to yell, but his head hurt so bad, he wasn't sure he'd even made a sound. Slowly, whoever was touching him rolled him onto his back and then up into a seat on the ground. An arm slid along his back, kept him up when all he wanted to do was fall. There were lips on his forehead and then fingers were scratching over his scalp again.

 

"I really didn't mean to hit you that hard," the same smooth voice said. Fingers parted the hair at the back of Daryl's head and he jerked as they touched something painful there. "The bleeding finally stopped, so that's good. I think. I'm not a doctor."

 

Daryl looked toward the voice, vision funneling down to a pair of swollen lips. He blinked a few times and the face they belonged to filled in. As Daryl stared at Gareth, he felt the gag pull out of his mouth to hang around his neck like a dirty necklace.

 

"What...?" Daryl thought he said, he wasn't sure he'd made any sound at all.

 

Movement brought his attention to an unfamiliar figure standing to the side of the fire. It was a man with a hood pulled up over his head. His face was three different colors and his left eye was almost swollen shut. In one hand, he held a knife with a good sized piece of blackened meat speared on the tip. Daryl smelled it, now. Something cooking in the air.

 

“Who...? No one made it out...”

 

Gareth's hand cupped the side of Daryl's face, pulling his head closer and forcing his eyes back to him. "Shhh. Don't worry about that right now. You're safe."

 

Daryl wanted to struggle, but at the same time he wanted to lay down and sleep. Not sure which urge was stronger, he didn't do anything. A kiss was placed on his hair and he had the strangest flash of his mama from way back when. He'd had a fever that damn near killed him and that was the most mothering he'd ever felt.

 

Gareth's voice came as more of a comfort than it should have, he was sure of that and little more. "I'm sorry it has to be like this – that you had to wake up bound and gagged – but you gotta prove yourself like everyone else."

 

"Gareth," the man in the hood called, "let's get this over with. I'm tired."

 

"Dark meat always makes you tired, Martin." Gareth rolled his eyes. He stroked the side of Daryl's face, hand coming down to rest on his neck. "You can lie back down if you want to. This will be over soon and maybe you can have something to eat."

 

Daryl was finding it harder to form words and had to settle for blinking at Gareth. Gareth eased back away from him and Daryl stayed upright when he took his hands away. He walked away from Daryl and along the arc. "This isn't about Terminus."

 

Martin coughed. Gareth glanced at him and then back to their captives. “Well, okay, so a little bit of it has to be. I mean, if our home hadn't been _blown up_ , none of us would be in this situation. You can thank yourselves for that. But we didn't come looking for you. Dumb luck put you on our radar and now that we're in the wild, it would have been stupid not to pounce when the chance came up.”

 

Rick made a loud noise into his gag, twisting against the pole. Gareth looked at him and then back to the others. "You let yourselves get caught and that's on you. I've said it before: you are either the butcher or the cattle. Bring them over here."

 

“That big bastard, too?” Martin said, wiping his knife on his pants before sliding it away on his belt. He'd finished whatever he'd been eating. “He's heavy as fuck.”

 

“Yeah, I want them to see him. That's why I said 'them' and not just 'her.'”

 

Carol was first, pushed along by a rat-like woman with short, dark hair. Her hands were tied behind her back and there was a gag running through her mouth. Carol's face was blank, but there was a tension around her eyes that made Daryl's chest tight. The woman kicked Carol behind the knees, dropping her to kneel in front of the group. Daryl rocked, getting his legs under him until he was kneeling as well. The flare of pain in the back of his skull kept him from going any further.

 

There was a moment of arguing out of his sight and then Martin and a younger man entered the light of the fire with a heavy body between them. Tyreese's legs dragged on the ground and there was something seriously wrong with what Daryl was seeing. He had to blink away more streaks in his vision and look again.

 

Only one of Tyreese's legs dragged the ground and it was bent in all the wrong ways.

 

The other was just...gone. Everything below the knee had disappeared, replaced by a poorly wrapped bandage that was dripping a trail over the ground. He didn't move when they dropped him. If not for his breathing – thick as if something was broken inside as well as outside – Daryl would have thought he was already dead.

 

Gareth didn't look at them. “We saw during the escape that y'all are pretty close, so there wasn't any reason to think asking you to give up the bomber would yield any results.” He licked his lips. “Lucky for us, we didn't need you to hand them over. Your big, black friend here made one very, very big mistake. He didn't kill Martin.”

 

“Damn right, he didn't.” Martin said.

 

“Shut up.” Gareth growled. “And Martin didn't kill them before she could blow up Terminus. Everyone makes mistakes and everyone,” he glanced at Martin, “has to atone for those mistakes.”

 

Something bad was happening and Daryl inched toward them on his knees. The pounding in his head only seemed to get worse and he had to stop again, hanging his head down for a minute while the world went on.

 

Carol made a noise into her gag and finally, Gareth looked at her. With a groan more annoyed than anything else, he crouched down in front of her and tore her gag down. As soon as her mouth was free, she said, “You're right. I did it. I blew up your tanks. By myself. Let them go."

 

“I don't think so. See, I had this one piece of me that this God-forsaken plague hadn't taken away and that's gone, now. When you do something bad, you have to pay for it.” Gareth turned his head to look at where Daryl knelt. A sick feeling began to build in his stomach and what Daryl wanted to do was throw up. More than that, though, he really wanted all of this to just stop until he was better – until he could deal with this.

 

_Ain't never gonna be any better, Baby Brother, you know that._ Merle's voice in his ears sounded like someone was playing with the volume knob, making the words louder and softer. Daryl shook his head and instantly regretted it. Not real. None of this was real if he was still hearing Merle. The dream had changed, but he would wake up and everything would be okay. 

 

Gareth put a hand on the gun at his hip and Martin made a sound. "I wanna do it."

 

Gareth held his hands up. "All right. Do it. And when you're done, get her on the fire. Him, too. Don't need him bleeding out and turning. I hate wasting that much meat."

 

Martin stepped behind her, gun out. "Teach you to put a gun to my head and not pull the trigger, Bitch."

 

"Hey," Gareth pointed at the man's gun, "put a silencer on that. We don't need more of them coming to the fence."

 

Carol's eyes were locked on Daryl. Despite what was happening, she looked so...calm. Daryl's mouth worked several times before he found his voice. Gareth was already back beside him. "Gareth...Gareth, please...please. Anything you want me to do, I'll do it. Just don't let this happen. Don't let him..."

 

Gareth knelt in front of him, shaking his head. He cupped Daryl's cheek and made him look at him. “Don't look.”

 

Those two words made him struggle, pulling his head to see around Gareth's body. “Please, Gareth...pleasepleaseplease...”

 

Gareth's hand pulled him back so that all he could see was Gareth's face, nothing more. “This is happening, Daryl. It has to. Don't look.”

 

“Anything,” Daryl whimpered, eyes already stinging, “I'll do anything, Gareth, please...”

 

Distantly, he heard the others in the circle making noises, but that didn't matter. What did was what he could do right now. Daryl leaned forward, putting his face right in Gareth's. He brushed his lips over Gareth's. “Anything, anyone, please, Gareth, please...don't...don't...”

 

With the silencer, the gunshot was barely a pop of air, but to Daryl it seemed like it was the loudest thing he'd ever heard. Louder than being under the bleachers when the crowd was stomping. Louder than his dad's voice when he crashed the truck. Louder than the explosion at the CDC. Louder even than the tornado siren just down the road from Merle's that seemed to rattle his eardrums every time the damn thing went off.

 

After the sound of it, there was only an insect-like buzz that filled Daryl's head. It covered the screams coming from his throat so that the feel of them tearing out his insides was the only sign he had that he was making any noise at all. Daryl shoved forward into Gareth, wanting to go through him and to her, but he couldn't, not when Gareth's arms wrapped around him. Daryl struggled and fought against the hold as his vision grew fuzzy around the edges. The world swam and then everything was gone.

 

 

 


	3. Meat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “In the end, everyone's just meat, anyway...You're meat, I'm meat, and no matter what we do, something will eat us.”

Daryl spent a lot of time going in and out. When he was awake, the world was a blurred nonsense. Bits and pieces would just start to clear and he was on his way out again. In the dark, he saw faces. Merle and Andrea. Dale. Hershel, Beth, and Carol. Tyreese and Sasha. Glenn. Michonne. Judith. Carl.

 

Sophia.

 

Awake or asleep, he was colder than he'd ever been. Kneeling over the trough back in Terminus, he knew what was coming. He'd known the second he saw the shiny metal with its drain and the two men with their aprons and the...butcher...working across the room. Those little details had been shoved down until now, but he knew then what they were doing in Terminus. What was going to happen to them all.

 

One by one, they were gonna die. First were the poor bastards at the end. Daryl felt the first crack of the bat in his own body when the blonde guy went down. He heard the slick sound the knife made passing through his throat and then the rain on aluminium sound of his blood hitting the trough. Of them, Glenn was going to be the first. Four men were dead and dying, what remained of their life dripping out, and Glenn just got real still. Daryl understood.

 

This was the real shit and they weren't getting out of it. Being first – or in Daryl's case, second – meant he wouldn't have to sit and watch the others die waiting for his turn. Dying first, he could handle because they were gonna die, no doubt about that. Only the act of a nonexistent god would save them now.

 

But they did survive and he was still just watching everyone else die around him.

 

Second only to the cold was the invisible hole. He felt it first when they'd found Merle's damn _hand_ just lying on that roof in Atlanta. Daryl had other shit to focus on so it remained only the size of a pinprick. Not really noticeable, but there all the same to remind him that a piece was missing.

 

With every death, the edges of it had been creeping larger. Most days, Daryl could push it away. He always found something else to do. Something to keep his mind away from the worry that one day, he would wake up to a cave in, his outer body having not been able to hold itself together with all the supports gone.

 

So many people. Dead or lost and not coming back. All he wanted was to keep them safe and he'd fucked up at that royally so many times.

 

His fault. All of this.

 

His head still hurt, but Daryl's thinking had smoothed out when he came fully awake for the last time. Waking up was good – the reality of the situation they were in, less so.

 

He woke up lying on his back. There was a brick wall on his left. Someone had repositioned his hands so that they were lying on his stomach, but he was still bound. A shirt had been rolled up and put under his head to keep it off the concrete. In spite of everything, he was almost comfortable.

 

Off on his right were the poles. All he could see of the group were their backs. Except for Rick and Maggie. She had to turn her head uncomfortably, but she would be able to see him if she wanted to. Even in the warm glow of the fire still burning, her skin was a sick pale and he wondered about everything that happened at the church. Where Glenn and the others were.

 

Rick barely had to move his head to look at Daryl. Right now, though, his eyes were shut and Daryl could almost make out his lips moving.

 

Did Rick pray? Daryl couldn't remember ever seeing him do it even when Hershel was around. He was doing something now, though. Maybe working out how to get out of here. To find Carl and Judith, if they were still...

 

Daryl choked and felt that hollow space inch larger.

 

There were two fires that he could see – the one that was close to the poles and that the Terminans were also gathered around and the other was farther away with only one figure that he could see standing next to it. That was the one they were using to cook on.

 

The sounds coming from that second fire were so loud that he could hear them perfectly fine from where he was by the building. He'd cooked a lot of things in his life, but Daryl had never heard anything like this. It was almost like the meat – Carol's meat, Carol's skin, and Carol's bones – were giving one final protest to this horrible treatment. Even worse than the sounds was the way the smell wasn't all that different from anything else he'd cooked on an open flame. It should have been horrible when in fact, it smelled good and that thought alone made him roll onto his side and retch.

 

There was vomit already there by him. Had he thrown up before? Daryl wasn't sure – his time drifting in and out was just a patchy blur. A sound burbled up in his throat. He thought it might have been a laugh, but who the hell could be sure?

 

It was funny, though.

 

Daryl had tried so damn hard to not get eaten by the dead and of course it was the living that was going to do it. He snorted and the world went blurry. When it cleared, Gareth was sitting beside him, his back to the wall, legs bent over Daryl's. He had a huge piece of something in his hand and Daryl's mind tried to tell him exactly what it was, but he silenced that voice. Deer, he told himself, it had to be deer meat. None of it was true. People just don't eat people.

 

“Hungry?”

 

He was. God help him, but he was. Smelling what was cooking and knowing what it really was – who – and he was still hungry. Daryl's throat worked and he rolled to the side. All he did was cough over the puddle. He had nothing left. When he looked, Gareth was fighting to get a piece of meat off, worrying it between his teeth and Daryl thought that maybe, just maybe, he could find something more than bile to come up.

 

“I know that it's not ideal.” Gareth said. “But it's the best option we had. You've killed people, but I can see that you've never been so hungry that it feels like you're hollow inside.”

 

The word 'hollow' stuck out to Daryl. Hollow, empty, alone, hungry. They bounced around, but he couldn't seem to make them mean anything.

 

“When you know that if you don't do something, your body will just collapse in on itself, you'll take anything you can get to fill that hole. Anything to keep you and yours alive. Doesn't matter what it is. Doesn't matter what hunger. Like at the oak. I needed to feel something and I did. Right now, I'm hungry and I'm eating.”

 

Daryl spoke and his voice didn't sound like his own. It was too hoarse and cracked in the wrong places. “Why?”

 

“Why did I pick you or...” Gareth raised his remaining meat to finish off the question. Not needing an answer to know where Daryl was going, he shrugged and changed his hold on the meat to where he was gripping it like an apple. "Terminus really did start out as a place to help people. But the end of the world just turned some assholes into bigger assholes."

 

“Mm,” Daryl twisted his hands together, testing out the knots there. Gareth's eyes locked onto the movement before going back to the meat in his hand. He squeezed it and clear juice ran down his skin to the concrete.

 

“That guy who killed your brother – let him turn – he's dead?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“We did good things and then these people came and I saw what people could do to other people. The things they did to my mother...to me and my friends...I still dream about it all the time.” Gareth took a shaking breath. “You think I'm a monster, but I'm not. Not like they were. I've never...

 

“They did horrible things to all of us. When we got free, there were two promises I made to everyone who survived. I would never let anyone hurt us again and no one would go hungry. This,” he held up the meat, “knocked out two birds with one stone.”

 

Daryl watched him finish it off, licking his fingers clean. “When we searched Terminus for other survivors, I found my mother's body in the Sanctuary. She'd been chewed on – tore up – by those things. Her insides were gone, but she was moving."

 

Gareth rolled onto his knees and crawled up Daryl's body, straddling his waist and pushing his bound hands up to his chest. “There wasn't anything inside her and all of a sudden, there wasn't anything inside me, either. Not when I saw her lying there. Not when I pushed the knife into her head and left her there. I wasn't mad - I wasn't even sad and that scared me, Daryl. I was supposed to just hit the person who was doing security at the church, but I saw you and..."

 

Gareth bent down and kissed Daryl. He braced his hands on the concrete to either side of Daryl's head. When he pulled back, he stared down at Daryl. "I felt something and I ran toward it. I didn't know how much I missed this. I was so focused on keeping everyone safe. Making sure that what happened wouldn't happen again."

 

He went down to kiss Daryl again and let out a small sound as Daryl's hands grabbed his neck. The angle was horrible and the way his hands were tied made it hurt, but Daryl pushed him up, thumbs digging into his throat. Gareth coughed, but didn't struggle, didn't try to stop him. He just stared down at him as Daryl squeezed. Daryl thought about what happened to Carol and the explosion at the church. About Tyreese and all of the missing people. He squeezed harder and then his hands just relaxed, falling down between them.

 

The man dropped his forehead to rest on Daryl's chest for a minute, coughing. “I know some people like that kind of sex...me, not so much.”

 

Slowly, he eased his body down to lie half on Daryl, half on the concrete, head on Daryl's shoulder.“You understand, don't you? My brother – "

 

Daryl tried to shrug Gareth off of him, but the man didn't move. "I don't want to hear about your brother or your mother. Carol was a good person. She just wanted to save us and Tyreese...he was such a nice guy. He could have killed your man, but he didn't because that's the kind of guy he is. Was."

 

Gareth nuzzled his face into Daryl's chest, stretching his arm out over both of Daryl's. "We were all good, once."

 

"You still could be," Daryl whispered.

 

For a long time, Gareth was quiet. Daryl felt himself starting to drift off again when he heard, "Can't go back, Daryl."

 

_They were back at the tree only this time Gareth was facing him, his legs hooked around Daryl's waist. Gareth twisted against the tree, but he was completely at Daryl's mercy. Daryl fucked him harder into the tree and he caught just the barest glimpse of the way the bark was chewing up the other man's back. Gareth didn't even seem to feel it, moaning all the same. Daryl didn't have to worry about the sound attracting walkers because they were already here, wandering around them, weaving in and out of the trees._

 

_"Oh God...Daryl..."_

 

_"Yeah," he grunted, fucking him still harder. The walkers continued on as if nothing was happening here and Daryl knew he was right. There really was nothing separating the living and the dead anymore._

 

_Gareth bit down hard on his bottom lip and blood ran down his chin. "Oh fuck...oh fuck...there..."_

 

_A walker clawed around the tree. Daryl got one glimpse of its face before it bit into Gareth's neck._

 

_Carol._

 

_Daryl pulled away from them, falling onto his bare ass in the leaves. He scrabbled backwards, unable to get up. Before Carol released him, Gareth had already changed. His skin had turned a sick yellow, his eyes mapped out in lines of bright red. His teeth snapped, clicking together louder than they should have._

 

_"No..." Daryl moaned._

 

_"Rrrraargh...rrraaarch...raaa..." was the sound from Gareth's throat._

 

_Both of them fell on him while he screamed._

 

Daryl started awake, heart pounding in his chest. Gareth raised his head just enough to look at him. He mumbled, "Wha's wrong?"

 

"You." Daryl said.

 

Gareth's head came back on his shoulder. "What else is new?"

 

The sun was just up, the fires burning low. When he was sure Gareth was asleep again, Daryl looked at Rick to find the man's eyes open and watching him. He didn't know what he expected, but it wasn't the cool gaze that met him.

 

He looked away from Rick to where Merle sat. It didn't surprise him. Merle had always been one to show up when things had already been blown to shit. Unless, of course, he was the one to blow them up. He smiled that good ol' Merle smile and Daryl wished more than anything that his big brother was still alive. He'd figure something out and they'd barely make it, but they would. That crazy-ass Dixon luck.

 

_Hey, Baby Brother. How's that stickin' with your pal Rick workin' out for you? I'm guessin' not too good with the fuck you're in right now. Damn, Daryl._

 

Daryl closed his eyes so that he wouldn't have to look at the dead man. He muttered, "Not now, Merle. It's lookin' like I'll be seeing you soon."

 

_That how you seein' it, huh? Ah well, that proves it: faggots like you didn't belong before and you ain't got a place now._

 

Daryl's eyes snapped open. Merle was standing now, warming his hands in front of what was left of the nearest fire. He rubbed his mitts together and walked between Rosita and Bob to stand in front of him.

 

"That might be one of the nicest things you've ever said to me."

 

_Hey,_ Merle pointed at him,  _who beat the shit out of that kid that called you a fag?_

 

"Yeah and you turned around to kick my ass, too."

 

Merle crouched down beside them.  _Didn't stop you from fuckin' that pretty boy in the woods last night, mmmhmm. What happened there, Daryl?_

 

He looked down at Gareth as the man made a small sound in his sleep. Gareth's face tensed and then relaxed. "I don't know."

 

_Heh. I would never have thought it, but you might actually have a chance because of that._

 

Daryl shook his head. "No."

 

_Yes. I don't care how you got to do it – what you gotta eat – but you ain't allowed to give up. Dixons don't give up."_

 

"I can't, Merle. It's - "

 

_Oh, bullshit you can't. You can do any fuckin' thing you have to. And you will or I'm gonna send Dad out here to smack some smarts into you._ He smiled. 

 

Daryl smiled back. "Fuck you, too, Merle."

 

Just like that he was gone. The sun went up higher and Gareth's head rolled a little on his shoulder, arm tightening against him. A minute later, he said, "What do your dead mean to you?”

 

“Nothin'. They're just dead.” Daryl muttered.

 

“Ours mean survival. Every person we've dealt with – every person we've _lost_ – has helped us become stronger. Without them, we'd be dead.” Gareth raised his head and looked at Daryl.

 

“In the end, everyone's just meat, anyway. Carol was meat. Tyreese was meat. You're meat, I'm meat, and no matter what we do, something will eat us. If it's not us, then it's the dead. If it's not them, it's whatever animal or insect comes along after we're gone." Gareth ran his tongue over his teeth. “People taste surprisingly good. Especially women. Heh, Alex, my brother, had this crazy theory that it was because of that childbearing fat they all have. He always liked to think about shit like that.”

 

“Hey, Gareth, Mike and Greg are back.” The younger guy that had helped Martin drag Tyreese was walking toward them. He looked like he hadn't really left his teens behind, yet. In both hands, he held oddly shaped slices of meat. Daryl's eyes fell on the gun shoved down the front of his jeans. He held out a piece almost the size of Daryl's hand to Gareth. "Martin spent most of the night taking care of the black guy to get him on the fire, so we're finishing up what's left of the woman."

 

Gareth patted Daryl on the chest and sat up, taking the meat. Daryl watched Gareth tear off a strip of meat, chewing it right in front of him. “Did they find anyone in the woods?”

 

The guy glanced at Daryl. “No. They found a trail leading away from the back of the church, but lost it. If anyone's alive, they ain't coming this way.”

 

Gareth nodded. “Do they know how many might have gotten away?”

 

“Nah, I don't think so.”

 

Gareth's eyes ran over Daryl's face. “Okay. I want you to go tell Mike and Greg to grab a bite to eat and get some rest. You, Ruth, and I will go check out the church and see if we can find out who's dead. Martin can watch the camp.” He looked up at the guy. “Got all that, Albert?”

 

Albert nodded and started to leave before stopping again. “Um, what about him? Shouldn't we put his arms back behind him again so he can't do anything?”

 

Gareth slid his free hand down Daryl's arm to tug on the rope at his wrists. “He tried to kill me last night and didn't. Martin can take care of it if he does try anything. I trust him to do that much.”

 

The boy left.

 

“Hungry?” Gareth asked.

 

Daryl shook his head. He couldn't even look at the meat in Gareth's hand. Not seeing it couldn't make him not hear Gareth chewing, though. After he swallowed, he said, “You're a survivor, Daryl, I know it. Couldn't die even if you wanted to. Starving to death is a slow, painful thing.”

 

“I can't.” Eyes cast to the side, Daryl didn't notice Gareth moving closer until his face was right in front of him. He pressed his mouth to Daryl's and then Daryl tasted meat. His first instinct was to try spitting it out. Gareth's mouth clamped down on his, pinning his hands to his chest when Daryl tried to push him away.

 

Daryl's whole body went limp when the mush slid down his throat. One of Gareth's hands came up to stroke the side of his face before he pulled back. Daryl felt sick, but his stomach wasn't doing anything other than sitting still and that somehow made everything worse. Gareth pressed their foreheads together. “There. You're almost one of us.”

 

"Then untie me." Daryl's voice grated.

 

"Do good like this and you'll be up and walking around like a free man in no time." Gareth tugged on the rope between his hands. He helped Daryl sit up and turn so that he was leaning back against the building. The others were beginning to stir, pulling at their bonds as they woke up. Rick just sat still, eyes on where they were against the building. He had to have seen what just happened, but he wasn't showing any sign either way on how he felt about it.

 

Gareth turned to him. "Did your people have a rendezvous point set up in the woods?"

 

Daryl shook his head. "We weren't at the church long enough and we weren't planning on staying long enough to need one."

 

Gareth's eyes bounced between Daryl's. "If you're lying to me, you'll be the next one dead. Being a good fuck won't stop me from killing you."

 

"Figured as much." Daryl said. "I don't want to die. Not yet and sure as hell not like this."

 

"Good, cause I don't want you dead."

 

"The others don't have to die, either." Daryl said. "Rick will kill you and Maggie would help him. But the others – Tara, Bob, Rosita and Eugene – they don't owe us anything. All they want is to go to D.C. If you let just them go...they'll leave. No problem to you."

 

Gareth dusted off his pants. "Can't let them go, Daryl. Sit tight, I'll be back later."

 

_Hehehe,_ Merle laughed on his left,  _that's my boy. You think I liked the Governor? He saved my life, gave me a safe place to live. Hell, when I thought I was going to die, I cut off my own hand! You think I wanted to do that? If eatin' someone would have saved my hand, you think I wouldn't have done that?_

 

"You let him fuck you, too?" Daryl mumbled. When he looked, Merle was gone. He looked out across the camp and found Martin's eyes on him from where he sat. Rick was also watching and Daryl had to look away from him. A minute later, the man who shot Carol and mutilated Tyreese stood in front of him.

 

Daryl had to roll his head all the way back to the wall to see Martin's swollen face. The hood was down this time and he was wearing a faded ballcap that Daryl couldn't remember if he'd seen last night. Martin crouched down and now Daryl saw the fist-sized piece of meat he held in one hand. “You see my face?”

 

“Looks like you ended up on the wrong side of a fight.”

 

“The only wrong side is the side that's dead. I'm not and he is. I call that winning. You were close to that woman last night? She was your _friend_?”

 

Daryl stared at him. Martin smiled and his face twitched in pain. He held the meat in front of Daryl's mouth where he could take it if he wanted to. “Here, have a bite. I'm sure she'd want you to.”

 

“Get the fuck away from me.” Daryl growled.

 

“Can't say I've ever really understood some of the things Gareth does.” Martin tore off a chunk of meat and Daryl got the barest flash of a nature show a life time ago. Hyenas tearing up a carcass. “You know, I am really going to enjoy killing and eating you and your friends.”

 

He tore off another piece, chewed, and spit it all over Daryl's face. It was force of will that Daryl kept his hands in his lap. Attacking this man would only manage to get himself killed. Martin dropped the meat in front of Daryl and walked back to the fire.

 

Staring hard at Martin's back, Daryl wiped the bits of meat and spit off his face.

 

 

 


	4. Choice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'Ain't no monsters now, Baby Brother. Only the living and the dead.'

Daryl stared at the piece Martin had left behind. It didn't look like something that had come off of a human being and there was no way to tell if it had once belonged to Carol or Tyreese. His head was shaking even as he reached for it. With it cupped in his hands like some precious thing, Daryl softly moaned, “No.”

 

Carol had always been a surprise. The way she accepted and dealt with every situation no matter how horrible. Outside Atlanta, he honestly hadn't given her a second thought. She was nothing more to him than another whipped _woman_ cowering in the face of an abusive husband and not being half the mother her kid deserved. Hell, he hadn't really seen her until the bastard died and she went to town making sure he couldn't come back from the dead to drag them with him.

 

Her daughter's death. Carol had accepted that Sophia was gone long before Daryl could bring himself to even think of that possibility. Watching that girl come stumbling out of the barn tore at his insides, broke another piece of him, and somehow made Carol stronger. Made her more able to survive than any of them.

 

She'd become so much a part of his life that her never coming back was unacceptable. No matter what happened, where she went, she always came back. The proof of that had come after the escape from Terminus.

 

Tyreese. Tyreese could be one violent son of a bitch when he wanted. Strong, powerful, Daryl still remembered how hard it was holding him back from killing Rick after the Karen incident. And he still didn't know how the man had made it out of being surrounded by walkers when they went for the medicine. But he did.

 

Even though he could look intimidating at times, Tyreese was still such a nice, gentle guy. Somehow, that made the brutality of his death that much worse.

 

Never in a million years did either of them deserve to go out like that.

 

Daryl's hands shook as he brought the meat into his chest, hugging it as best he could. He felt like everything was shaking, every molecule in his body trembling for their deaths. And it _hurt_.

 

All of the movement stopped. He wasn't going to let anyone else die. Not if he could do _something_. Daryl carefully pushed the meat into his pocket and brought his hands up to his mouth. He studied the knots. When he felt eyes sweep over his skin, he looked up. Martin was watching him. He slowly pulled his gun – the same gun from last night, the same gun that... – and held it against his thigh. From the corner of his eye, he caught other movement.

 

Rosita had been twisting her hands around to pry a small razorblade from where it had been taped to her lower back. Slow so as not to draw any attention, she sawed at her ropes. Using his teeth, Daryl began to work the knot. _Dammit, if she got free..._

 

He loosened it enough that he could slip his right hand out with most of his skin intact. Daryl jumped up and the rope slid off his left. Holding his hands up, he headed straight for Rosita's back. Martin stood, bringing the gun up this time. “Sit your ass back down.”

 

Daryl bent down behind her and stilled her hand so he could take the blade without cutting both of them up. He whispered, “Trust me,” before standing.

 

“Don't think I won't shoot you right now.” Martin said.

 

Daryl held up the blade so the other man could see it. “Gareth's obviously the boss here – you're not gonna shoot anyone.” He chucked the blade away from all of them and it made the barest sound on the concrete. “So put your fuckin' gun down.”

 

Daryl walked between Rosita and Eugene to look down at the fire. He rubbed at his wrists and shot a look at Rick that he hoped at least conveyed a little of the fact that he was working with what he had to save who he could. Then he stepped around and toward Martin. The gun was still in his hand, but he'd dropped it down to the side, eyes locked only on Daryl. His next words tried to stick in his throat, but he managed to force them out in a decent imitation of annoyance.

 

“Gareth's not here, so who do I gotta talk to about gettin' some food?”

 

Martin's one good eye narrowed and his jaw tensed. “You're right, Gareth's not here. Go sit your ass back at the wall and a waiter will be with you shortly.”

 

Daryl interlocked his fingers behind his head and walked between Maggie and Tara. Other than the burns, everyone looked fine except Bob. His eyes were closed and his skin shiny in the sunlight. Bob's lips were parted, but it was hard to tell if he was even still breathing. Daryl had passed through them when Rick started making noise on his left. Daryl paused to look at him and found that he was twisting in his binds. The man screamed at Daryl into the gag. He waved a hand at Rick and to Martin, said, “You might be doing me a favor here. Guy's fuckin' crazy.”

 

Daryl kept his head down the rest of the way back to the wall. He turned and thumped his back hard against it, staying standing. His head rolled back against the wall, eyes shut. Without meaning to, he thought about the oak again. The way the slim man's body felt pressed against his. He'd needed that more than he'd known. His eyes snapped open.

 

Daryl brought one hand up to chew on the skin around one thumbnail. Daryl gnawed at it while his mind chased itself around until he tasted copper. The end of his thumb was beading blood and only when he saw it did his thumb begin to throb. He dropped his hand back to pound several hard beats on the brick wall until it felt numb. With a heavy sigh, he looked to the sky.

 

Daryl hadn't ever thought there was anyone up there – hadn't any reason to. Religion had never done the Dixon clan any good. Ma worshipped her smokes and they took her away from him. Dad was faithful to anything he could get his hands on to help him forget about the shitty shack in the woods, his dead wife, and the two sons growing up in his staggering footsteps. That hadn't turned out well for him, either.

 

Both Daryl and Merle had worshipped Merle. Daryl didn't have any illusions about where he would have been if the dead hadn't stopped lying down. And yet here he was. Merle was dead and who did he keep on looking to? Merle.

 

What was he doing? He'd _fucked_ the enemy – the man who'd almost watched him get his throat slit without a second thought. And was he really going to do _it_? How could he...what kind of a monster did that make him?

 

He didn't see Merle this time, but his voice was there all the same.  _Ain't no monsters now, Baby Brother. Only the living and the dead. And you're alive, ain't you?_

 

Daryl sighed. “Damn, but I wish you really were here.”

 

Martin appeared in front of him, gun ready. “Here you go, bitchboy.”

 

He held a strip of meat the size of a piece of jerky to Daryl. When Daryl took it, Martin didn't leave. “Show me that you're not just trying to save your friends.”

 

In the back of his mind, Merle was there goading him in ways that only he could. This almost felt like another bet and he convinced himself that's all this was as he brought the strip to his mouth. Martin didn't leave until it was gone. “Thank you,” Daryl called to his back. Daryl's eyes flicked to where Rick sat and he barely caught the small nod from the man.

 

By the Sun, it was sometime around Noon when Gareth and the others came back. Daryl had slid down to sit against the wall a while ago. He didn't move when they came through the gate. Gareth and the others gathered out of earshot, Gareth throwing him a quick glance. Daryl locked his hands around one knee bent up and watched this discussion. Gareth's body was tense and he and Martin seemed to have a few heated words. Gareth broke from them and walked over to Daryl.

 

“I hear you've been busy since I left.”

 

"What's going on? What happened in the woods?" Daryl asked.

 

"Who said anything happened?" Gareth's hand wrapped around Daryl's elbow and he pulled the man to his feet. Daryl instantly tugged free from the grip. Gareth shook his head and stepped around the corner of the building and Daryl followed. As soon as they were out of sight, his back hit the wall. "Martin told me what you did. Stopping the girl...eating...”

 

Daryl nodded and then Gareth's mouth was moving against his. Gareth's body pressed against him and he brought his hands up to hold his sides. His next words were a whisper against Daryl's lips. “I need some information.”

 

Daryl's eyes ran over his face. “About?”

 

“Everyone missing from your group."

 

"I thought all of them were dead."

 

"There are plenty of burned bodies around the remains of that church, so it's possible. We need to know anyway."

 

"Do you know that any of them are actually dead?" Daryl asked, running his hands up Gareth's sides to rest over his shoulders. “Not just burned walkers?”

 

Gareth nodded, his body relaxing with the touch. His eyes remained locked on Daryl, though, carefully watching his reactions. "The younger black woman – not the Samurai – got caught under some burning dead. The Asian guy...Glenn. Mike did him in when we were still in the clearing, no getting around that. We're not so sure about the rest. The kids, the Samurai, the big ginger guy. I think that's the rest that escaped from Terminus. And the priest. Don't know shit about him."

 

Daryl's stomach dropped away and he sagged back against the wall. Glenn...Sasha... "I shouldn't tell you a fucking thing."

 

"That's understandable. I wouldn't tell you anything, either, unless I got something I wanted. Which is why I'll let Bob have the choice."

 

"Just him?"

 

Gareth shrugged putting a hand on Daryl's hip. “He was a medic, wasn't he? Could be useful. Your turn. You look like you've played this game before."

 

"Michonne's the strongest person I've ever met. Complete badass. If she's still alive, I'd be scared. Same with Abraham. I don't know him, but you saw him. Built like a gorilla and military all over."

 

Gareth kissed him and his tongue licked the roof of Daryl's mouth. "The girls. Tara and Rosita can have the choice. Tell me about Carl, Daryl. Tell me about Rick's son."

 

Daryl stared at him, cupping the side of Gareth's neck with one hand. The tips of his fingers brushed the handle of Gareth's knife. "He's smart. If he's alive, he's got Judith and gone somewhere safe. He knows keeping her safe is more important that some suicidal rescue mission that he couldn't possibly hope to pull off. I wouldn't worry about him unless you think Michonne and Abraham are alive."

 

"How dangerous is the kid, really?"

 

Daryl smiled, couldn't help it. He was so proud of the kid. "He'd shoot you in the face and not lose any sleep over it."

 

Gareth tensed when Daryl's hand on his neck gently squeezed. It wasn't enough to hurt, just enough to remind him that it was there. Gareth slowly leaned forward and kissed him, then angled his head so their foreheads were together. “Are you gonna try to strangle me again now that you're free?”

 

“If I don't, will you let Rick and Maggie go?” Daryl muttered, squeezing a little more before letting that hand drop down to Gareth's side again.

 

Gareth laughed. “You're not stupid – don't start playing it now.” He sighed. “I don't blame you for wanting to kill me. But why did you stop before?”

 

Daryl pulled him still closer, letting himself bask in Gareth's warmth. In his being alive. He stopped thinking about the others and the part he'd been trying to play to save them. Instead, he just told the truth that he hadn't told any of them. The way he'd been feeling for months.

 

“I've had enough.”

 

“Enough what?”

 

“Death, dying, living. If I hadn't been hurting so bad right after Carol died...I could have killed you and not thought about it until after.” Daryl looked at him. “Killing you wouldn't make anything better. It'll just hurt more. It doesn't matter if I like you or not. I'm just done watching people die. I wouldn't suggest leaving me alone with Martin, though.”

 

“Martin is a hard person to get along with. He was an asshole before the assholes came. Oh, if you'd just come to Terminus before them...maybe we could've kept them from doing what they did. Terminus could still be a sanctuary and we,” Gareth brought his hand down between Daryl's legs, “could've met a long time ago in a different place.”

 

“I'm sorry we didn't,” Daryl muttered, sliding a hand around Gareth's neck to pull him into a kiss. Gareth moaned into his mouth and then Daryl felt his pants being tugged open. Gareth kissed down Daryl's jaw to his neck.

 

The world came rushing back with the sound of a scream. Gareth jerked back and Daryl was on his tail around the building after doing up his jeans.

 

The screams were because of Bob. Skin ashen, eyes sunken, he was snarling where he still sat tied to the pole. Bob leaned as far as he could toward Tara, teeth snapping in her direction. He was trapped at a good three feet from her even with all his straining, but she still screamed. Martin snapped his fingers in front of Bob's face, bringing the new walker's attention back to him. He waved a finger back and forth and Bob followed it.

 

"Martin, what the fuck happened?" Gareth asked.

 

Martin didn't so much as glance away from Bob. He shrugged. "Wasn't me."

 

"He just  _turned_ , Gareth!" Ruth shrieked. "What if we'd..."

 

Ever calm, Gareth held up one hand. "We didn't. Martin, put that damn thing down."

 

"Whatever," he pulled out a hunting knife and pounded it down into Bob's skull. Martin pulled it free and wiped the blood on his jeans before standing. His eyes zeroed in on Daryl a little ways behind Gareth. "The fuck is that, Gareth?!"

 

"He's proving himself."

 

“Just because someone's handing out free blowjobs doesn't mean you can trust them, Gareth!” He stepped toward them and Daryl's eyes fell on the knife still in Martin's hand. He waved it at them and Daryl instinctively reached for a weapon that wasn't there. "How many of our people did he kill while our home burned?"

 

"We would still be at Terminus if you had dealt with that grey-haired bitch when you had the chance." Anger threaded through Gareth's voice. Daryl couldn't stop his hands from curling into fists at 'grey-haired bitch.'

 

"You are not fucking blaming this on me." Martin bit back.

 

"You are just as guilty as she was and you know it."

 

"Looks like you're the one that fucked up." Daryl said, keeping his voice flat.

 

Martin glared at him. "Us first, right, Gareth? We can't trust  _them_ . They did this to us, remember?" 

 

"It's his shoulder," Ruth called. She held the neck of Bob's shirt open, showing them the bitemark.

 

"Was your ass buddy going to tell you about this or just let us get sick so he could untie the rest of them?" Martin said and the others added their voices, pressing Gareth for an answer.

 

Daryl was looking at Rick and the others. Not one face wasn't surprised at Bob's sudden transformation. He shook his head. "None of us knew. He went on a run into town earlier – it must have happened then."

 

Staring at Martin, Gareth said, "Daryl, check all of them. Make sure we don't have any more nasty surprises waiting."

 

"Come on, Gareth. Letting him close to them?"

 

"Shut up, Martin. You're the one that told me about the razor. He could have kept it, could have done something and he didn't. He could have taken my knife behind the building just now. Or my gun. He didn't. One wrong move and I will deal with it." Gareth said.

 

Daryl started with Eugene, patting his shoulders, sides, and legs. As he expected, there was nothing. Rosita glared at him, but also looked on the verge of tears as he patted her down. Tara _was_ crying. Maggie talked into her gag the whole time, but he couldn't make out anything she said. He thought about Glenn lying dead at the church and wondered how much she'd seen of it.

 

Rick was the hardest. Daryl wasn't sure how much he suspected of what was going on, but at the memory of the small nod, he gave one back to Rick. Rick's eyes closed and he said something that could have been, “Carl.”

 

Daryl stood, still staring down at Rick. "They're all clean."

 

Gareth glanced at him. "Come over here."

 

He moved them away from the others. "We can't stay here. Not with the chance there's people in the woods ready to attack us if the others are alive. We can't risk them finding us."

 

"And?" Greg asked, stretching his arms behind his back.

 

"Daryl says Eugene, Tara and Rosita are newcomers to the group. They don't have anything really tying them to Rick. I say we give them the choice."

 

Martin groaned. "Have you lost your fucking mind?"

 

"I'm talking more hands and less captives to take care of. It's logistics."

 

"We don't need more hands, Gareth, we need  _food_ ." Martin said. “Or don't you remember – ” 

 

“I remember how you used to bitch and moan that you were hungry as if the rest of us weren't.” Gareth's tone was positively venomous. “I also remember that you survived because of _me_. Because of what I was willing to do.”

 

“Gareth, our great fucking Savior! You always talk like you did everything alone...like we all didn't have a part in taking back Terminus!” Martin stalked closer to them. The other Terminans looked between the two, not sure what to do, but staying out of it.

 

“If I hadn't come up with the plan, you, me, and everyone else would be dead right now! I told you what to do! I took the biggest risk with that fucker! I would've let you do it if you wanted the gloating rights so fucking bad. He could've fucking wrecked you instead. How about that? I would've loved not going through that, Martin.”

 

The other man tensed, eyes dropping to the ground. Gareth seemed to relax some. His voice was softer when he spoke. “Exactly. I did what I did to save us without caring what it could do to me. What I would have to go through. I gave myself to him so that the plan would work and it did.”

 

Martin shook his head. “Sacrificing yourself doesn't make you any less of an asshole.”

 

“Don't I know it. And I'd have died if you hadn't done your part, too.” Gareth sighed. “We'll still have Rick and Maggie. And we can find more. We always do. If we need to, we can eat the others later on. But we'll do it like always." Gareth turned to all of them. "We vote."

 

Mike and Ruth nodded. Greg looked at Martin and shook his head. "He's right. I don't want to stay here any longer than we have to and two are easier to control than dragging along five people. If they even take the choice."

 

"Martin?" Gareth said. "You know the rules.You say no and we'll stick with Plan A."

 

Martin looked disgusted with all of this. He shook his head. "Fucking do what you want to do."

 

Arms over his chest, he walked away from them. Gareth went to stand in front of Rosita so he could look at all three.  "Okay, so here's the deal: the three of you get a choice that your friends aren't getting. You can join with us – be like us – and we might entertain the idea of going to Washington. After all, we don't have anywhere to go right now. Or you can feed us like they will." 

 

Maggie twisted in her bonds. Tara looked at Maggie and her eyes slowly went to Daryl. He didn't move, didn't want to push her in any one direction. It was her choice. When she looked at Rick, though, he nodded.

 

Rosita looked sick, but she also looked like she was trying to get Eugene's attention. That was looking to be pointless, though, because he looked like he'd gotten lost inside his own head again. If he really was lying about having a cure, as Daryl suspected, then it was obvious he was willing to do anything to keep himself alive. Daryl thought that if he said yes, then Rosita would, too. He wasn't sure about Tara. Maggie's fight faded again and she sagged boneless. Her eyes locked on Daryl and he thought she said his name into the gag. Daryl wanted to mouth to her that he was trying, but Rosita started making noises.

 

Gareth stepped up and pulled her gag down. "Yes?"

 

"If you take Eugene to DC, we'll do whatever it takes. Whatever you want." She said. Eugene's head snapped to the side to stare at her.

 

Gareth looked at him. "That how you feel, Big Man?"

 

Rosita pursed her lips and gave him a tense nod. He swallowed and his face seemed to lose a few shades as he nodded. Good, two down.

 

Tara was still looking at Rick when Gareth freed her mouth. Her eyes bounced to Gareth. "I...I'm with them if you're really going to take Eugene to DC. But," she glanced at a stunned Maggie, "I...I...I don't think I can..."

 

Gareth crouched down in front of her. "It's okay. You'll eat or you won't."

 

He stood. "All right, then. Now, we – "

 

A bullet blazed right by Gareth's left cheek. Everyone standing dropped, each looking around for the source.

 

A voice unfamiliar to Daryl came through the trees. "It's so good to see you're still alive, Gareth."

 

 

 


	5. Lunch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “...It ain't bad enough that those fucks are always trying to kill us that you gotta join in, too? That we gotta worry about you?"

The man that came out of the trees was short, but wide. A solid man. Scars old and new covered his face, changing its landscape until one couldn't quite be sure what he'd looked like before acquiring the first. All of the damage meant that his face didn't move the way it should and that added to Daryl's first thought that this man was wearing some kind of mask. He had six other men with him who each held guns pointed at the fence. Their leader held a single revolver trained on Gareth.

 

"Colin? We thought you died in Terminus." Gareth said, hand inching for the gun on his hip.

 

"You better be reachin' to throw that gun on the ground. Anyone else moves so much as an inch and the first bullet goes in your _fearless_ leader." Colin's voice brought to Daryl's mind some old Clint Eastwood movie. Except that Ol' Clint would have probably been the good guy. This man sent a small tremor of terror through Daryl's bowels and he knew this was going to end horribly.

 

"Why didn't you meet up at the cabin like the rest of us?" Gareth left his gun alone in its holster and slowly stood up, turning to face the newcomers.

 

“We did. Me and the boys here ran into Martin after _they_ left. A little chat and all of us agreed on where to place the blame. He stayed back to see if anyone else made it out. You, especially." The skin around Colin's eyes was already tight and when he narrowed them, it grew tighter, still. Colin jerked his head toward the gate and one of his men went to open it.

 

"If you wanted me dead that much, then you would have done it back in Terminus. You had plenty of chances. I saved your life – you're not going to shoot me." Gareth dropped his hand for the gun still on his hip and a bullet tore a hole through the meat between thumb and forefinger. He let out a small cry and dropped down to one knee, cradling his bleeding hand against his chest. The bullet kept on to lodge itself in Tara's thigh. She screamed and twisted against the pole.

 

Colin was inside the fence when Gareth looked up at him, shaking. His voice was tight with pain. "We saved your life. You...were almost dead when you got to Terminus. Another hour and you wouldn't have been able to move, you ungrateful bastard!"

 

"I didn't ask you to save me like that!" Colin yelled, waving the pistol at him. "You didn't tell me what it was! And when you did...you showed me that room..."

 

"When you were strong enough, you could have left. Could have gone wherever you wanted to." Gareth's voice cracked.

 

“She needs help,” Daryl spoke up now, drawing Colin's attention for the first time.

 

Colin glanced at Tara. "Do I look like a man who cares if some little girl bleeds out?"

 

Daryl held his hands up. "No.”

 

Colin smiled and again his face wasn't moving the exact way it was supposed to. Daryl went on, “But I do care. I get that you have a problem with Gareth. But we ain't a part of this.”

 

Colin pointed the gun at him. "We've been all around this place. You've been standing with him, you are a part of this, now.” Colin cocked his head to one side, then nodded. “Straight to her, no stops."

 

Daryl nodded and passed Gareth to kneel by Tara. He felt the back of her leg for an exit wound and found it smooth – the bullet hadn't come out. Tara moaned. "Why is this happening?"

 

Daryl hushed her a second before Colin said, "Keep it quiet over there."

 

Daryl's gag was still hanging around his throat, forgotten, and he grabbed it. He wrapped it around Tara's leg, tying it tight. Tara started whining again and he whispered, "I know, I know," while taking the gag from around her throat and tied it around as well.

 

"Fuck, that hurts," she hissed when he was finished.

 

Daryl nodded. "I know."

 

“And where do you think you're going?” Colin said.

 

Daryl looked up to see Martin frozen mid-step. Three of Colin's men had guns on him. Martin held his hands up. “You told me the only person you wanted was Gareth. Figured I was free to go wherever I wanted.”

 

“You don't get to go anywhere because you're one of them, too. Sorry if you thought we were friends or something.” Colin said.

 

Gareth was hugging his hand tight, trying to staunch the bleeding. “You weren't there, Colin. You don't know what Gregory was. What we had to do – ”

 

“I know that he didn't make you eat people, Gareth. You chose that. Both of you. And he didn't force you to feed it to unsuspecting strangers. He didn't force you to turn them into the same kind of monsters y'all are.”

 

Gareth smiled then. His head bowed down over his bleeding hand as his body shook in laughter. When his voice came, it carried anything but humor. “You have no idea...what a monster is...”

 

“Stop that.” Colin said.

 

Gareth kept laughing and it had the high-pitched quality of someone who couldn't stop even if they wanted to. Colin took several quick steps forward and kicked Gareth. He whirled and hit the ground face down. The laughing slowly morphed into a coughing whine as he'd caught himself on the hand that currently had a hole in it.

 

“Shut up!”

 

“What do you want here, Colin?! What's the point of this?!” Gareth pushed up onto his knees with his left hand, the right pressed tight to his chest again.

 

Colin bent down and grabbed a handful of Gareth's hair, jerking him up as high as he could be without leaving his knees. “It's very simple. All I want is for you to know exactly how we felt.”

 

Colin released him and stood. “And your little faggot boyfriend's gonna help us.”

 

Daryl was still crouched beside Tara when Colin waved him over. He slowly moved closer, acutely aware of exactly how unarmed he was. “What do you want from me?”

 

“His hand.”

 

Gareth shook his head. “No!”

 

"What? No." Daryl said.

 

Colin cocked the gun and aimed straight at Daryl's head. "You cut his hand off or I'll kill every one of your friends, you last."

 

"Colin...don't do this..." Gareth said.

 

"No." Daryl said, his voice solid.

 

Colin stared at him. "Get moving in three or I fire."

 

Daryl shook his head, swallowing. "You can't..."

 

He saw the revolver swing to the right and only Rosita's screaming told him who'd been hit before he looked. The bullet took Eugene's temple. His head dropped forward, hanging heavy on his newly limp neck. Rosita's screams cut through every inch of Daryl's body. Colin aimed at her and Daryl moved to block him. He slapped a hand over her mouth. "If you don't wanna die right now, you've gotta shut up."

 

Her eyes kept moving to Eugene's lifeless body, but she nodded and brought it down to a whimper when he removed his hand.

 

"She's next unless you start moving, buddy." Colin said and Daryl turned to find the gun pointed at him again.

 

"I don't have anything to..." Daryl began.

 

Colin nodded to Gareth. "Use his. He never takes the damn thing off. I bet he even keeps it on when you fuck, right?"

 

Daryl ignored the question and slipped off his vest, pulling his shirt over his head. Colin stared at him. "Don't want to get your pretty clothes dirty?"

 

"I need something for the wound. If you wanted him dead, you wouldn't just want his hand.” Daryl dropped his shirt by Gareth and the man just stared at it as if he were trying to figure out what was happening right now.

 

“Jamie, build up this fire. Boyfriend,” Colin pointed the gun at Daryl, “burn his wrist shut when you're done.”

 

Daryl bent down and Gareth automatically pulled away from him, falling on his left hip and scooting away over the ground. He moaned, “No...”

 

Colin said, "Help him," and two of his men came to them. They grabbed Gareth, bringing him up on his knees. Gareth twisted against them and Daryl barely pulled the knife without cutting the back of his head. He stood in front of him and caught Gareth's hand.

 

Gareth tried to pull his arm back, but Daryl held on tight, squeezing Gareth's fingers. "Don't look."

 

"Please don't...please..." Gareth begged, pulling weakly on his arm and crying. He looked up at Daryl, eyes dancing all over his face. “Please...”

 

The hand holding the long blade was shaking. Daryl took a deep breath. He whispered the two words again, wishing that he could've done this with his own eyes shut, but it wasn't going to happen. Daryl had to look, but Gareth didn't. His eyes dropped from Gareth's to his target and the knife came down.

 

Gareth screamed until his voice cracked. The second he was holding the hand no longer attached to Gareth, Daryl dropped it. Daryl stabbed the knife into the slowly growing fire. Over the screams, he heard Colin say, “Kezz, throw that hand on the fire for me. Never had us eat it raw in Terminus.”

 

Daryl barely registered the words and what they meant because he was suddenly pressing the heated blade against the stump of Gareth's right arm. It hissed and put off the same smell of cooking meat that he'd gotten used to around this camp. The blade wasn't wide enough to close off his wrist in one shot, so it was back in the fire. This time, Daryl saw the hand he'd just cut off lying in the fire, skin burning and melting.

 

Gareth kept on screaming, but it devolved into a background buzz as Daryl continued closing off the wound. He thought about how Tyreese's leg had been missing when they dropped him in front of the group. The way he must have felt when it was cut off and his other broken beyond repair. No mercy there.

 

Daryl let go when he was sure Gareth's arm was no longer bleeding. The other men released him so quickly that Gareth just fell to the ground with his arm curled into his chest, hiccuping sobs jarring his body. Daryl squeezed the handle of the knife until his fingers hurt. "What happens after this?"

 

Colin looked around at his men. “Whatever the hell we want to happen, I guess!”

 

“Colin...” Gareth yelled, but there was nothing after as if he didn't know what he was gonna say.

 

“What's that?” Colin put his free hand to his ear. “You're hungry? Just a little longer, Gareth.”

 

“How many people did you eat in Terminus?” Daryl asked him. “He said you could o' left, why didn't you?”

 

When Colin didn't answer, Daryl went on, anger pushing him forward. “Here's what I think happened: You _liked_ it! And you think he's the only reason you liked it. You know what else I think? I think you're gonna kill us and _eat_ us because for all your bitchin', you're still just another goddamn cannibal!”

 

Colin smiled and for an instant, Daryl wanted to take the knife and just carve this man's mutilated face off. It wasn't doing him any good, anyway. Before he could move, though, something wrapped around Daryl's right leg. Gareth was staring at Colin with tears still shining where they'd been pouring down his cheeks, his intact arm hugging Daryl's leg tight.

 

“How many of your friends has this fucker killed?” Colin asked him.

 

“Plenty,” was the only word Daryl would give him.

 

“And you still didn't want to hurt him? Didn't want to carve him up the way he had the big darkie carved up? Man,” Colin shook his head, “he must have one hell of a cock on him for the kind of instant loyalty he gets everywhere he goes.”

 

Daryl's hand pulsed around around the knife handle. “Ain't there enough pain out here, we gotta add more?! It ain't bad enough that those fucks are always trying to kill us that you gotta join in, too? That we gotta worry about _you_? Cuttin' up people, _eatin'_ them? What the fuck is this?"

 

Gareth squeezed Daryl's leg and he tossed a glance down at him. "I'm not saying I'm a fuckin'  _saint_ , but this ain't the way it should be." 

 

Colin nodded. "It's not the way it should be, it's the way it _is_. Kezz, I think Gareth's lunch is ready."

 

The black man pulled out a hunting knife and stabbed it in the back of Gareth's burned hand. He pulled it out of the fire and walked over to them. Gareth turned his face into Daryl's thigh, hiding it. "No...please...don't..."

 

The other man who'd held Gareth for the amputation grabbed his shoulder, pulling him back. Kezz shoved the blackened hand at Gareth's mouth and he found another scream in him as it burned his face. Daryl brought the knife down on Kezz's arm. It and the hand fell, but he didn't see that. The man screamed and Daryl swung the knife around to catch the second man across his belly. Daryl ended up turned half around and took the first bullet in his left shoulder. The sudden shock of it rolled down his arm and jarred his body. The second blast roared wide past him.

 

At the third gunshot – very close – Daryl expected this to be _the one._ He waited for the pain of the bullet tearing through something vital. The instant darkness of death. The relief to come that everything was finally over and done with.

 

Nothing happened.

 

Daryl looked at Colin and Colin looked down at his chest to the growing red blossom staining his shirt and his pistol bounced on the ground. A confused look crossed his face. "No."

 

Daryl dropped his eyes down to where Gareth's shaking left hand still held the gun up. Gareth muttered, voice hoarse, "Guns...drop them."

 

Daryl reached down and gently pried the gun out of his hand. Gareth was shaking so bad, but his grip held on for an extra couple seconds. Daryl fired once into Colin's head and then aimed at the nearest member of Colin's group, all of which still looked shocked at the speed of everything that had just happened. "You heard the man. Drop them and put your hands on your fuckin' heads."

 

The men tightened their grips on their guns and Daryl didn't know what would have happened next because gunshots from the woods startled everyone. Everyone looked to the trees. Abraham came out followed by Michonne. Each held an M-16.

 

“You are surrounded,” Abraham's words were clipped. “Do what the man said and you'll live through this. Don't do it and we start knocking off all the unfamiliar faces.”

 

The big man's eyes ran through the camp, locking on Eugene's still form. His mouth worked unconsciously. “What did you do?!”

 

Daryl wasn't sure if Abraham had started the shooting or if it was one of Colin's men. As soon as the gunfire sounded, he dropped to the ground, shoving Gareth flat as everything went to Hell.

 

In the silence that followed, Daryl made out the sound of a baby crying. Carl inched out of the woods with his gun held up in two steady hands and behind him came Father Gabriel carrying the screaming child.

 

Abraham and Michonne had been nicked in the fight, but most of Colin's men had taken the brunt of the onslaught. Daryl looked around and could pick out Albert, Ruth, and Martin among the living left from Terminus. They were quickly herded up without their weapons.

 

Pain was a living fire in Daryl's shoulder and he pressed a hand to it, rolling to sit beside Gareth. "The fuck kept you so long?"

 

 

 


	6. Enough

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You've been there, done that, and it made you into a horrible fucking person, didn't it?"

 

Daryl felt sorry for Abraham even though it was probably his outburst that had saved them. The first thing the big man did after the shooting was over was to take Eugene and lay him flat on the ground. Since then, he was just a statue with Rosita tucked under his arm, staring down in some sort of reverence for the man.

 

A cure. It was silly to think that all of this could just end. That the threat would be gone and everything would go back to normal. Abraham didn't get it – or he didn't want to – and Daryl doubted if any of the others did, either. Daryl knew. He knew with every breath that hurt his insides.

 

It'll never be over. There is no end. The dead ruled the living well enough before they just stopped staying down. With full physical command over the Earth, they weren't going to let go. Not now, not ever. They had been people, too, right? Life had always been about finding a way to live among the dead. It was just a little harder, now.

 

Maggie's face was made of stone as she went to check on Tara's leg. It was the first thing she did when she was free from the pole. Close to them, Rick had Carl and Judith and he wasn't letting go of either yet.

 

The good Father had slipped several shades of sick and thrown up twice at the carnage in the camp. He was crouched down with his knees near his face, heaving sounds coming from his direction every few minutes or so. Interspersed with them was some kind of high sobbing.

 

When a shadow fell over them, Daryl was surprised to find that it belonged to Maggie. She crouched down to look at his shoulder and he grunted, "You don't have to.”

 

“I don't.” Her voice was as hard as her face and he couldn't bring himself to look at her.

 

“I know about what happened to Glenn when the church was hit. I'm sorry, Maggie."

 

"The bullet's still in there, but it ain't so deep. I think I can dig it out.” She didn't sound sorry about what pain that would cause and he didn't blame her. It was his fault that anyone died at the church. If he'd been doing his job...

 

Maggie picked up Gareth's knife from where Daryl had dropped it. She pushed the tip into the wound and Daryl tensed, gritting his teeth. Gareth reached toward him with his stump and dropped it back when he saw the place where his hand should have been. Daryl grabbed a handful of Gareth's shirt at his waist and squeezed it tight just for something to hold on to.

 

It felt like she was shredding his arm from the inside out. Eyes squeezed tight, Rick's voice over him was another surprise. "Daryl.”

 

Daryl nodded. “Rick. Are Carl and Judith okay?”

 

“Yeah. Are you?”

 

Daryl jerked as the bullet came free, hitting the pavement. He pulled on Gareth's shirt and opened his eyes as Maggie began stitching him up with a kit she'd found in one of the bags. Daryl hated stitches – hated the way the needle pulled on his skin. “Probably. I'm not sure anymore. What are you gonna do?”

 

“I'm not sure, yet."

 

"Won't...won't kill you." Gareth murmured. "We'll just go. Never see you again."

 

"Not Martin," Daryl said.

 

Gareth looked up at him and then rolled his head to look at Martin, kneeling with the rest of his people. Daryl remembered what Colin had said about Martin being in contact with them. He wondered if there had been anything other than what happened in Terminus between them. After a minute, Gareth nodded. "Yeah, okay. Take him, I don't...I don't care anymore."

 

Gareth's eyes rolled from Daryl to Rick. "And what about me? I didn't kill any of your people."

 

"No." Maggie grabbed his arm just above the stump and he moaned, trying to pull it back. "Because of _your_ plans and _your_ people, Glenn is...my husband is...Carol and Tyreese and Sasha...Eugene...Bob..."

 

Gareth tried to pull his arm back again, but she only squeezed it tighter, making him cry out. "Bob had been bitten! He was going to die anyway. At least he didn't hurt anyone because he was tied up when he turned."

 

Maggie threw his arm down against his body and left. Gareth looked up at Rick. He tried for a smile, but his lips were blistered and his teeth bloody, so it was little more than a grimace. "So, are you going to kill me with your red machete, Rick Grimes?"

 

Rick pressed his lips to Judith's head. "I can't let you go. The kid, maybe. The woman...but not you. Because you can't stop hurting people. You'll find someone else and put them through Hell."

 

"I swear I won't." He waved his stump. "What can I do, really? To anyone?"

 

"He won't hurt anyone else." Daryl said. “I'll make sure of that.”

 

"Daryl..." Rick's voice held all the confusion Daryl refused to look up and see.

 

"I can't stay with you. Gareth can come with me, if he wants.”

 

“Daryl, you don't have to do this.” Rick said.

 

“I'm gonna go try to find Beth and send her back to Maggie. I gotta know if she's alive or...I gotta know. After what I did here, you don't need me, anyway.”

 

"Yes, we do. You are part of our family." Rick said.

 

"If it had been someone else in the woods...if I hadn't let myself get distracted...” Daryl stared at Gareth. “Glenn and the others might still be alive. I fucked up, Rick. Everything that happened is on me.”

 

Rick crouched down by them, Judith resting on his leg. "And you spent every second here trying to save us."

 

Daryl kept his eyes on Gareth because he still couldn't look at Rick and the baby. "I..."

 

"You were getting Eugene and Rosita and Tara free. You did good, Daryl. And if there was a way to save Maggie and me, I know you would have found it."

 

"Wouldn't have happened," Gareth murmured. His eyes were closed and when Daryl touched him, his skin was clammy. "...attacked us..."

 

"Yeah, well you shouldn't have fucked with my family." Rick said.

 

Gareth's breathing got so shallow it looked like his chest wasn't even moving. Daryl had to put a hand on it just to feel the bare movement. "Gareth?"

 

The man's eyes snapped open as if he hadn't realized they were closed. Gareth blinked several times and licked his burned lips, wincing as he did so. "Tired...blood..."

 

Daryl moved his hand to Gareth's arm, stroking over his skin absently. To Rick, he said, "If people like Joe had come to the prison...” He glanced up at Rick to make sure he was getting exactly what Daryl wanted him to. “Taken over, locked us up...if we'd had to watch Maggie or Carol or...or _Beth_...getting raped. If we'd been beaten and starved, we would have fought back. We would have done whatever we thought was necessary to protect them and to keep protecting them. Just like what Gareth and the others did with Terminus.”

 

"You know I trust you, Daryl." Rick said. "What do you think we should do?"

 

"I don't know what you should or shouldn't do. All I know is that we could've been them if things had gone differently at the prison. You know that, too, I think."

 

Rick looked down at Judith. Her head was angled against his chest. "You want her for a bit? I think she's going to sleep."

 

Daryl looked at his hands. "I'm all bloody."

 

"Won't be the first time she's got a little blood on her." Rick handed her over.

 

Daryl held her up and she blinked sleepily at him. He brought her into his chest, letting her legs rest in his lap. "Can't get away from the blood, huh, little girl?"

 

Rick stood and thumped Daryl on his good shoulder. Daryl watched him head over to where Tara, Maggie, and Carl were gathered, looking through Gareth's bags. Abraham and Rosita were still with Eugene. He turned his attention back to Judith and caught Gareth's eyes cracked open to look at him. It seemed like in just the last few minutes, his skin had gone a chalky white. All except for dark places around his eyes. A mask. A death mask.

 

"You okay?" Daryl said, putting his hand back on Gareth's stomach.

 

Gareth's eyes opened all the way, zeroing in on him. His left hand covered Daryl's. "I had my own burned hand shoved into my mouth – which now feels like Hell, by the way – after you cut it off and seared the stump with my own blade. I had better days under Gregory and the bastard _raped_ me, Daryl." Gareth bared his teeth in another painful smile. “I like your name. Daryl. We had a doctor in Terminus named Shelley. He...he could of fixed me up.”

 

“You're gonna be fine.”

 

Gareth's eyes moved to the baby. His bottom lip shook when he spoke and Daryl was starting to catch a fine tremor where he touched Gareth. "That's Ricks?"

 

Daryl rubbed his thumb over her back. He pressed his mouth to the top of her head. "Yeah. Funny story: I gave her her very first name before Carl came up with Judith.”

 

Gareth's throat worked and Daryl felt Gareth's stomach jump under his hand. "What was it?"

 

"Lil' Ass-Kicker." Daryl smiled as he said it.

 

Gareth chuckled and that was it. Daryl couldn't feel the tremor anymore and his stomach was still. Gareth's eyes were blankly locked on Judith. Daryl's throat closed up as the hole filled up that last little place inside him. "Gareth?"

 

No answer.

 

He thumped Gareth's chest hard.

 

Nothing.

 

Daryl looked up and hollered for the nearest person. "Carl!"

 

The boy ran over and Daryl handed Judith off to him. Two fingers to the vein in Gareth's throat. Nothing. The stump slid off his chest to thump the ground. He pinched Gareth's nose shut and breathed into him before pressing his chest. "No."

 

He did it again. Pumping Gareth's chest, he said, "Merle didn't die – "

 

Again. " – when he lost his hand – "

 

Again, panic rushing through his body. " – and you don't get to, neither."

 

When nothing happened, Daryl pounded both hands down on Gareth's chest before slamming his head down on them. "No!"

 

The shaking started in his hands and traveled up his arms and throughout his body. Daryl swallowed everything down and looked up. The knife that Colin's man Kezz had used to get Gareth's hand out of the fire was lying on Gareth's other side and he leaned over him to grab it, the burned meat sliding off to the ground.

 

Still shaking, Daryl checked Gareth's pulse one more time before shoving the knife into his head. He jerked it free and stood, stumbling toward the fence.

 

"Daryl?" It could have been anyone's voice, he really couldn't tell through the sound of blood rushing in his ears.

 

Daryl pushed the gate open and then he was walking through the trees. He was suddenly at the granary again looking for Merle. Killing walkers on his way to the only one that mattered. The only one that had ever mattered. Again, Merle had fucked up and Daryl was left to clean up. Only this time, cleaning up meant making sure his big brother stayed dead.

 

Daryl heard the growl a second before the walker hit his right side. It had been a teenage boy with sandy hair, but for a second, Daryl saw Merle again with those fucked up eyes. He got his left hand under its throat and tripped backwards. His bare back took a pretty hard hit from a tree, but it kept him from going all the way to the ground with the walker on top of him.

 

Merle was replaced with the dead Gareth from his dream and Daryl screamed. Carol, Tyreese, Bob, Eugene, Sasha, Glenn, and everyone who had died before showed up in this walker's face. He brought the knife up and into the boy's head. Twice. Three times. He pushed the walker away from him and slid down the tree, the bark catching and tearing the skin of his back. Didn't matter anyway, would just be adding scars to scars. The knife slid into the leaves beside him and Daryl pressed his hands into his face. He screamed again.

 

Then the tears came.

 

~ ~ ~

 

The Sun was almost down, turning the sky into a vicious shade of red, by the time Daryl walked back into the camp. The smaller fire had been built up into a blaze enough to warm everyone around it. All of the dead had been dragged away and the Terminans were still grouped together, only a little closer to the fire than they had been. Abraham was standing watch over them, now, his face another dead mask.

 

Daryl didn't say a word – didn't even look at any of them. He was scared if he did, all he would see were more dead faces. His crossbow had been tossed in a pile of weapons. He took it and Gareth's knife. He slipped on his vest before going over to the Terminans.

 

Daryl stopped in front of Martin. "Get up."

 

The man just looked up at him. Daryl gave him five quick seconds before kicking him onto his back. He growled, "Get up."

 

This time, Martin did. Daryl stared at him. "Walk."

 

Martin shrugged and started walking for the gate, hands tied behind his back. Rick called his name and Daryl grabbed Martin's hood, stopping him. When he looked, Daryl saw Rick's face grey and torn in places, eyes blind with the cataracts of the dead. Inside, his body ached. "I'm not coming back."

 

"You don't have to go." Rick said.

 

"I do. I can't do this again. I can't watch you die. Maggie, Carl, Judith...There are too many in here as it is and I just can't." Daryl pushed Martin out of the fence. "It's too much, Rick."

 

"What are you gonna do, Faggot, string me up? Beat me? Torture me? That gonna make you feel better?" Martin said after the school had disappeared behind them.

 

Daryl stopped him with a sharp jerk on the hood. Martin fell off balance and Daryl let go so that he hit the ground. He circled him with Gareth's knife out. "I want to. I wanna make you hurt so fuckin' bad, you're cryin' for a momma that's been dead a long goddamn time. I want you to know what it feels like to watch people you love get killed in front of you. I want you to know what it feels like to have to put down people you love when they get back up after dyin'."

 

Daryl stared down at him as Martin hauled himself onto his knees. "But you already know what all that feels like, don't you? You've been there, done that, and it made you into a horrible fucking person, didn't it?"

 

Martin smiled. "But I'm still alive."

 

"No." Daryl slit his throat. Martin had a second of choking – as much blood coming from his mouth as the gash below – before falling forward. Daryl watched until Martin's body stopped moving. As he waited for the change, Daryl found a tree close by and dug a hole at its base. In it, he placed the meat from his pocket. After a moment's deliberation, he carved two crosses into the tree above it – the best he could do for them.

 

Daryl took a seat by Martin's body. He dug little trenches in the dirt with the point of the knife to pass the time. It needed to be cleaned something awful, the blade coated in blood old and new.

 

The woods were pitch black by the time Martin started to make noise. Off in the trees, there were others walking about, making their own soft sounds. Daryl put him down before beginning to cut. He hacked Martin's body open and even after only a couple of hours, the stench was horrible. He pulled out globs of meat and blood and rubbed it all over his face, neck, arms, chest, and pants. He only gagged once and could almost see Merle smiling with pride from the shadows.

 

Crossbow over his shoulder, knife an extension of his right hand, Daryl left to join the ranks of the dead living.

 

 


End file.
